Paint on Canvas
by Phoenix T
Summary: Amy Leione just lost her mother and now she's trying to make ends meet so she won't be deported. Just when she's at her wits end she gets run over and gets a voice stuck in her head. The voice insists he's real and that his name is Night lock. Now she being hunted by Decepticons and Autobots alike.


**Phoenix Trails does not own Transformers but she does own her own OC- Amy Leione. This story is rated Teen for language as well as some depressing themes.**

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 _Oct. 13, 2008_

 _Dear Diary,_

 _Today mom died. I buried her near our water fall. I put a bunch of her favorite lilies on top of her grave. Today I am officially alone._

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Putting down the journal, I took off auburn rimmed glasses and wiped the tears away from my bloodshot hazel eyes. Adjusting my glasses back on to my face, I looked at my hands. The once smooth skin was now covered in scratches and top soil from the handle of the shovel, I had used to dig my mother's grave. I had to bury my own mother because if they found out I was alone they would ship me back to Sweden.

I got off the shaggy and stained magenta carpet to answer the door. Wringing out my fisted hands a patiently opened the door. One painstakingly long minute later I closed the seemingly to thin door.

"I can't believe the nerve of that woman. Asking for rent money at twelve thirty in the morning." I yelled at the door as if everything in the world that was wrong was its fault. The abused white washed door took all my accusations without blinking.

I picked up one if the dirty dishes' stacked on the rickety, old fold out table and threw it at the unresponding door. Finding this slightly therapeutic, I grabbed a few more of the mismatched plates and bowls and tossed them at the center of the door pretending it was Ms. Lina, the land lady. Pulling my honey streaked blonde hair back, I put it into the ponytail it was in before. As I looked at the door, I saw the ruins of what looked to be all of the multi-colored plates we had previously in our collection of swap meet eating utensils.

Still angry, I shoved open the slightly barricaded door and ran out of the apartment complex and into the woods. I ran blindly through the crooked trees, hopping over stumps and fallen branched until my mind was cleared of any thoughts about Ms. Lina and the late rent money. As I tried to slow down I tripped over a jagged piece of rock firmly in the ground. I fell wildly into the pebble-dirt mixture not very far away from where the rock I tripped over was.

Laying on my dirt covered back I looked at the stars through the branches of the seasonally colored leaves. The nightly breeze ruffled the tree tops, sending a shower of autumn leaves down and around me. A distant boom sounded in the sky even though there was no thunder-clouds nearby. Retraining my attention back onto the stars I saw an orange meteor streak across the sky and over the horizon into the mountains.

Sighing, I drifted off into a dark and silent, dreamless sleep.

Like a napping bear wakened early from its winter sleep was now I woke up this morning. My stomach gurgled and whined about the lack of food in the last 14 hours. I stood up and wiped most of the twigs and dirt that had collected on my jacket over night off.

Looking in every direction, I finally settled on north to begin my walk. I hoped to find a road I could walk along until I found a trucker who could give me directions on how to get back to the city.

Struggling through piles of leaves I finally made it to a road. The graying and cracked asphalt was dead. There appeared to be no cars or trucks in sight. Annoyed by the lack of traffic, I turned around and kicked the nearest tree as hard as I could. This I regretted almost immediately, as it hurt like hell.

As I limped along the worn down road, I suddenly heard the shriek wail of sirens coming down the road. I began waving my hands in an effort to slow the speeding cop car but the mustang just raced on by as if I hadn't even been there. Glaring after the car I remembered something particular about the side of the mustang. Instead of the usual, "Protect and Serve" saying, there were the words, "Punish and Enslave." Finding it odd but not worth my time I turned my attention to getting a ride home.

Eight hours later, I slowly trudged down the faded and torn up wall paper covered hall way to our apartment. The splintered door warned me not to enter. The words, " **Late Rent** " were plastered on to it like a big red stop sign. Aww Crap.

 **Thanks for reading. Please rate and review. Hope you have a blessed week.**


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